Detante
by Darkly Tranquil
Summary: The night before the final march to Denerim, a chance meeting on the walls of Recliffe Castle provides Elissa Cousland and Loghain Mac Tir a chance to thrash out their differences.


Detente

A Dragon Age: Origins FanFiction by Darkly Tranquil

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><p>Disclaimer - Dragon Age: Origins and all associated IP are copyright of Bioware &amp; EA. I'm just borrowing it. :)<p>

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><p>detente [dey-tahnt; Fr. dey-tahnt]<p>

_a relaxing of tension, especially between nations, as by negotiations or agreements_

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><p>Elissa Cousland strode swiftly along the torchlit halls of Redcliffe castle. Her wavy auburn hair hung loose over her face and shoulders, concealing her puffy red eyes and tear streaked cheeks from any who might observe her as she made her way out of the main keep. As she walked through the halls of the keep, the clink and rattle of her armour echoed hollowly through the empty halls of the stone fortess, reminding her forcefully of just how alone she really was.<p>

Absently, it occurred to her that she must look a sight, and that it would not do for the leader of the Grey Wardens to be seen wandering about the castle in the middle of the night like a lost soul. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had been considered a rare beauty and one of the most elligible women in all of Ferelden, known for her long flowing hair and smooth, flawless, porcellain skin. As the only daughter of the Teryn of Highever, her hand had been sought by the sons of every noble house in the land and some beyond. If the people who had known her then could see her now, they would scarcely recognise her. Much of her flowing hair had been hacked off to allow her to wear an enclosed helmet, and her once flawless skin was now crisscrossed with scars from arrows, blades, fire, and sundry other forms of injury she had suffered in her numerous battles. She was no longer the fairytail princess that she had once been. Not that she had ever really bought into the idea to begin with. In fact, it had galled her that she was lauded for qualities that were a part of her, rather than something she had achieved on her own merits. It had been her desire to achieve something on her own that had led her to take up arms in the first place, and look where that had got her.

She walked with her hands clenched, her body rigid with tension from the anger and hurt she felt at the unfairness of her situation. Riordan's revelation that a Grey Warden had to die to slay the Archdaemon had shaken her to the core; just when she had thought that nothing else could be taken from her, she had discovered that the last thing she might be required to give up was her life. In light of recent events, she reflected that dying in the name of a good cause had a certain appeal. It wasn't like she had much left to live for anyway.

But the final blow to her morale had come from Morrigan. She had trusted the witch and even come to think of her as a friend, and although she had always known on some level that the witch had an ulterior motive for helping them, she would never have imagined what Morrigan's true agenda was. That she wanted Elissa to convince Loghain to participate in a blood magic ritual to was simply too preposterous an idea to contemplate. The thing that saddened her most was the fact that Morrigan had believed that she would ever consent to such a thing, even to save her own life. She had thought that she had gotten through to the witch and made her see that there was more to life than naked self-interest; that there were things that were bigger than the individual that were worth fighting, and dying, for. Morrigan had taken her refusal badly, and walked away just when Elissa needed her most.

This last betrayal, on top of the death of her family, the sudden and heartbreaking collapse of her relationship with Alistair, and the threat of impending death had left her emotionally and physically exhausted. But in spite of her overwhelming exhaustion, she found herself feeling too tense and emotionally fraught to sleep. As much as she would have liked to lie down and sleep for a year, or maybe even forever, there was no time to give in to her exhaustion, there was still too much to do. In only a few hours, the army would be rising to make a forced march to Denerim for what would be the final, decisive battle of her year-long campaign against the Blight.

Lost in here thoughts, she made her way across the bailey yard and ascended the stairs leading to the battlements atop the castle's curtain wall. Walking along the wall, she noticed a silhouette standing on the wall ahead of her wearing heavy silverite battle plate. From a distance, the figure's features were obscured by the shadows cast by the moonlight falling his shoulder, which refelected brightly off the suit of armour.

As she approached, the moonlight revealed the figure to be Loghain Mac Tir, her new Grey Warden "brother", although she knew she would struggle to ever think of him as such, given what recruiting him had cost her. He was standing with his back to her, hands clasped behind him, looking out at the hundreds of army campfires that dotted the hillsides and valley around Lake Calenhad. As she neared, he turned his piercing blue eyed gaze on her. "Warden Cousland," he said evenly, accompanied by a barely perceptable nod of acknowledgement. "Come to make sure I don't throw myself off the walls to escape my fate?"

"No," Elissa replied flatly. "I didn't even know you were up here. I couldn't sleep and I needed some air."

Loghain grunted. "There'll be plenty of time for sleep when we're dead."

"What are you doing up here, then?" she asked.

He sighed. "Pondering the twists and turns of fate that led me here, I suppose. There is a certain irony in me ending up as a Grey Warden, given my previous actions and attitude towards them."

"There is," she agreed. After a pause, she said, "Are you going to do your part in this?"

"Whatever out differences may have been, our goal has always been the same; protecting Ferelden and ending the Blight. Say what you will about me, but I will do anything for my country; even being a Grey Warden, if that is what is required."

"Good," she replied honestly. She simply did not know if she had sufficient emotional reserves left to deal with him if he were intent on being difficult. Alistair had been her rock throughout the whole ordeal, and now, without his love and support to keep her anchored, she felt bereft and dreadfully vulnerable. Although she could never trust Loghain in the way she had trusted Alistair, she needed to know that he would do what was required of him.

Out of the blue, Loghain spoke again. "I knew your father you know," he said. Although his tone was conversational, it was clear that he had raised the issue intentionally.

"I imagine you would have, being the only other Teryn in Ferelden," she replied cautiously, uncertain where this was leading.

"You may not believe it, but I had a lot of respect for him."

"I find that hard to believe, given your views on Orlais compared to my father's."

"Your father was an idealist; even more so than Maric. Maric finally had the idealism beaten out of him by the rebellion, but your father remained a well-intentioned dreamer all his life. He thought that we could live peacefully with Orlais as neighbours, once they had a different monarch. I believed that only through vigilance and military strength could we deter them from attempting to retake Ferelden. The fact that we disagreed on how to deal with Orlais does not mean that I did not have respect for him. Idealism is not such a bad quality in a man, if not in a General or King."

Loghain's words brought forth a rush of long suppressed memories of her father, the man who, more than anyone else, had shaped the person she had become. Throughout her months of struggle and battle against the Blight, she had kept all thoughts of her family firmly buried in the recesses of her mind. She regarded such thoughts as an indulgence that threatened to weaken her resolve at a time when she could afford no such weakness. The only exception to this rule was the singular memory of her father's final injunction to her, _a Cousland always does their duty_; that she kept foremost in her mind and she had used it to drive herself beyond whatever limits she had thought she had.

Taken aback by Loghain's admission of regard for her father, Elissa was unsure what to say in response. Finally, she fell back on her noble etiquette training and simply said, "Thank you."

Silence hung in the air between them for long moments, before Loghain spoke again. "May I ask a question?"

Elissa looked hard at him, trying to discern his intentions. "If I can ask one in return," she replied.

"Agreed. Why did you recruit me? Why not kill me? I gave you more than enough cause to do so."

"I wanted to. You deserve to die for the things you have done, but my duty as a Grey Warden must come before my personal vengeance. As much as I may hate you, I also need you. Riordan was right when he said you could still be of use. I have gathered an army to fight the Darkspawn, but I don't know how to command so large a force." She paused, looking pointedly at him, and then added, "You do."

"Very practical," he conceded, then said, "And what is your question?"

"Did you know what Howe was going to do to my family?" she asked quietly, trying to keep the hesitation from her voice. Although she wanted to know the truth, she was afraid of what it would mean for the tenuous peace between them.

Loghain snorted. "Howe was a ruthless, ambitious snake, but not even I would have thought he had the nerve to do what he did."

"But you didn't do anything about it. You made Howe Teryn of Highever! You rewarded his crime with my family's lands!"

Loghain waved her accusation aside. "We were in the middle of a civil war; I needed stability. As far as I knew, all the Couslands were dead, anyway."

His casual dismissal spurred her anger. "You and Howe have cost me everything I love!" she cried angrily, tears beginning to roll down her face. "My parents, the Wardens, and now Alistair as well, and you don't even care!"

"Don't try to pin that on me, girl," Loghain riposted sharply. "That was your own doing, yours and his." He paused, and then with a bitter laugh, added, "If I have learned nothing else from all this, it is that we are all responsible for our own choices...and we have to live with them."

He was silent for a moment, his gaze distant, then he said, "You know, he's so like Maric it's uncanny. The petulant scowl, the righteous indignation; pure Maric." He let out a snort of what might have been amusement and shook his head, as if seeking to deny his own words.

"I thought you didn't believe he was King Maric's son," she replied tersely. She was not keen to discuss Alistair with the man responsible for the dissolution of their relationship.

He shrugged. "At first I didn't. I assumed it was simply a ploy to add credence to Eamon's efforts to weaken me. I knew Maric had sired a bastard, but I didn't believe that it was really him. When I came to Eamon's estate in Denerim and I saw the boy, I was forced to re-evaluate my opinion. Its obvious to anyone who knew Maric that he was his son. Tell me, do you know who his mother was?"

"A servant at Recliffe castle from what I understand. He doesn't even know her name."

Loghain shook his head. "No. That was the cover story Eamon came up with; even I know enough to know that's not the truth of it. I could never get Maric to tell me who the mother was, though. I don't think Eamon ever managed to find out either, and he tried hard enough. Maric wasn't very good at keeping secrets most of time, but when he decided to keep something to himself, he was intractable." He gave a snort of bitter amusement. "He could be such a stubborn bastard."

They lapsed into silence for a time, both looking out at the hundreds of campfires down in the valley. Finally, Elissa broke the silence. "Why did you retreat at Ostagar?" she asked.

Loghain remained facing the valley, and for a few moments Elissa thought that he was not going to answer her. Eventually, he sighed and said, "You were there, you saw happened. The horde was far large than we thought; we didn't have enough men to close the trap. When you lit the beacon, it was already too late. I tried to keep Cailan off the front line, but his dreams of glory overpowered his good sense; what little of it he had to begin with. There was no way to get him out without throwing all our remaining forces into a meat grinder. I had to preserve what we had left to fight another day. Sometimes you have to lose the battle to win the war. I learned that the hard way against the Orlesians."

"But he was the King!" Elissa protested. "You should have tried to save him!"

Loghain whirled to face her, fire in his eyes. "You think I don't know that? Do you think I wanted him to die? He was Maric's son. He was Rowan's son! If I could have saved him, I would have!"

Loghain turned back to the battlements and leaned forward, resting his weight on the stonework as if standing had become too arduous a task. "I had to make a choice; King, or country," he said quietly. "Years ago, during the rebellion, Maric made me promise that if I was ever forced to make that choice that I place Ferelden first. Maker help me, that's what I did."

Elissa joined Loghain at the wall, gazing out at the campfires below them. "You said we didn't have enough men to win at Ostagar. Do we have enough men now?" she asked, changing the subject to more practical matters.

"Time will tell. There will be enough, or there won't. Either way, there will be no retreating to fight another day this time."

"They don't have to defeat the horde," she said. "They just need to get us to the Archdaemon. Then its up to us."

Loghain snorted. "Easier said than done."

"Most thing are," she replied.

They stood in silence for a few moments, before Elissa turned and began to walk back the way she came.

As Elissa began to walk away, Loghain called out her name.

She turned back to face him, but his face was shrouded in shadows once again from the moonlight falling over his shoulder. "When the time comes, let me take final blow." Although his tone was even, she could hear the plea in his voice that his pride would never allow him to speak.

"I'll think about it," she replied, then turned and walked swiftly away into the night.


End file.
